


Am I More than You Bargained For Yet?

by Flames_and_Jade



Series: Only One For Me - Peterick OTP Prompts Repository [1]
Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Bromance, Cuddling, Love, M/M, Nightmares, One Shot, Peterick, Spiders, fears, humor (I hope!), nerdy love, otp, otp prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2016-10-01
Packaged: 2018-08-18 23:16:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8179445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flames_and_Jade/pseuds/Flames_and_Jade
Summary: OTP prompt: Person A has irrational fears of things that don't exist/can't hurt them (eg. mice, bugs, ghosts, horses), while Person B's fear(s) are very deep (eg. loneliness, death, fear itself).





	

**Author's Note:**

> ~Takes placed in the established bandom timeline, during the SRAR era. Just imagine they're married.~

 

 

_Patrick_

 

He’s never met someone who is afraid of so many dumb things. 

 

The serenity of his morning shit is cut off by a high-pitched scream from the bedroom. Pete’s heart jumps to his throat, and he squeezes it off _(seriously, the things he does for his husband),_ wiping hurriedly and rushes to Patrick’s rescue. 

 

“What?!?! Are you okay?” He surveys the room, ready to punch an intruder or…be mugged by his husband. With a shoe. Patrick’s eyes are wide and darting. He’s holding one of his shiny white combat boots like it’s Gandalf’s staff or something and Pete realized he’s isn’t wearing his glasses. “Babe, where are your glasses? What’s wrong?” 

 

Patrick’s eyes dart towards him and his words tumbled out like a floodgate thrust aside in a storm. “I went to get my shoes and this _giant_ spider crawled out of the closet and I tried to trap it under my boot but somehow I knocked my glasses off and I can't see where they are and I can’t see and I don’t know where the spider is!!!!!”

 

It wasn’t what any of the marriage books or blogs or podcasts would have advised, but he couldn’t help it. Pete threw his head back and laughed—deep belly laughs that seemed to bubble up from his guts like balloons held underwater and suddenly released to explode onto the surface. The beginnings of anger started to bloom on Patrick’s face but Pete smothered it against his shoulder as he pulled the love of his life into a hug, the boot smashed between them, digging into his chest as he laughed. 

 

Patrick deflated a bit, dropping the boot and hugging Pete close. Finally pulling himself together, Pete kissed his cheek as Patrick pulled away, a sheepish smile on his face. “You’re totally ridiculous, you know that?” Pete couldn’t help the grin that was plastered on his face. “Like…you’re ready to go all Mortal Kombat on a spider…with your boot.” Scanning the room, he moved to pick up Patrick’s glasses from where they had fallen (An impressive distance away, honestly. The Flail Powers of the Stump were pretty legendary.) and handed them back to their owner. Moving to the closet, he crouched down…and saw a spider that couldn’t be any bigger than two inches huddled in the corner of the closet. 

  
“ _That’s_ the giant spider, babe? Really?” Pete shook his head, laughing again as Patrick mumbled something about _it looked way bigger when it was moving._ “Go get me some toilet paper and I’ll be your knight in shining armor and vanquish the fell beast.” There was a long pause, and he looked back to see Patrick examining his toes like they had suddenly become the most interesting thing ever. “What?”

 

Blue-green eyes met his, and Patrick gave him a pleading, bashful look. “Could you maybe…just like…take it outside?” 

 

Patrick Stump, Patron Saint of the Things that Scare Him. Pete shook his head and fell in love all over again. 

 

 

 

 

_Pete_

 

He had always wished that Pete would wake him up.

 

For years, Pete had crawled into his bunk and nestled against him, shaking from the terror of his nightmares. Cursed or blessed to be a heavy sleeper, Patrick always just slept right through, body automatically accepting the addition of Pete in sleep just like he did when he was awake. But by the time he woke up the next morning Pete would be either sleeping blissfully, or had fought the demons back enough in the lonely silence. 

 

His heart broke to see the dark circles under his friend’s eyes for the rest of the day, or the way he seemed hooded, the undimmed glow that was usually Pete Wentz shuttered behind the weight of his fears. He would let Pete cling more than he normally would, feeling like it was the least he could do. 

 

After a while, he started poking at Pete, asking why he wouldn’t wake him up, why he wouldn’t let him help. Pete always had an answer, flippant and slippery like armor; _I’m not five, lunchbox, it’s fine. Can’t have both of us looking ugly in the morning from lack of beauty sleep. You’re a delicate flower, Stump, I don’t want to crush you beneath the weight of my soul. Why would I do that, when you’re so comfy to cuddle with, and so accommodating when you’re asleep?_ Patrick would always just shrug and rest his hand on his shoulder, or some small touch, and promise to always be there.

 

When they finally came around—or as Joe had called it, _pulled their heads from each other’s asses for five seconds to see the fucking light of day—_ and made what everyone had apparently known forever official, Patrick had pushed the issue. They had been laying in bed, sticky and sweaty and positively _glowing_ from first-time post-sex bliss. He had grabbed his discarded shirt and cleaned them both up well enough to make it through the night. Pete had reached to turn off the light, but Patrick stopped him. The look on Pete’s face had been priceless—like Patrick had kicked all his dreams of post-coital cuddling like a small puppy. But he had lain still as Patrick sat up and took his face between his hands, forcing Pete to look him in the eyes. 

 

“If we’re together now, that means we’re _together._ That means I’m here for you and I want to take care of you just as much as you want to take care of me. It means you’re going to wake me up if you have a nightmare, okay?” 

 

Pete’s eyes had been open, unguarded, liquid brown and gold. He had closed them for a moment, and taken a deep breath. Exhaling, he had met Patrick’s gaze again and nodded, settling his hands over his lover’s. 

 

“Okay.”

 

~//~

 

That night, like the universe had decided to counterbalance the perfection that had overtaken them before sleeping, Pete had dreamed like he hadn’t in years.

 

_He was drowning, being pulled down into black water that shimmered around him with dark shapes he couldn’t quite make out. His lungs had felt like they were going to burst, and he kept telling himself he would pass out soon, that the lack of oxygen would kill him…but it hadn’t. He had settled on the sandy floor, feet tethered to something unseen. He beat his arms, trying to pull away but he couldn’t, and the most consuming feeling of failure settled on him. He was a failure, he couldn’t even save himself, just like he couldn’t do anything right, couldn’t be like everyone else, couldn’t make his parents happy…His lungs were burning, screaming, and he heard snatches of songs, of voices, and then eyes began to appear in the inky backness; angry leering eyes filled with hatred and pity. Then there was a deep thrum next to him, like something giant had moved, and a mouth suddenly yawned from below one of the eyes, about to swallow him whole…_

 

Jerking awake, he simply lay there frozen for a long moment. He could feel the sweat rolling  down his temples, and a shiver took over him as it began to cool. He rolled into a tiny ball, taking deep, shuddering breaths, trying to remember anything his therapist had ever told him…

 

 _Patrick_. 

 

He looked at the slumbering face of his boyfriend—the word didn’t bring the thrill it had just a few hours earlier—and closed his eyes, remembering his promise. He gritted his teeth, and reached a trembling hand to shake Patrick’s shoulder gently.

 

“Mmmphh…” Patrick mumbled gently. Pete almost stopped shaking, guilt at waking him up threatening to pull him under. But he remembered Patrick’s eyes, the utter sincerity that had permeated the face he loved so much, the achingly strong love that had seemed to vibrate between them like a plucked string…and he shook again. This time, Patrick opened his eyes, blearily squinting and looking like a newborn lamb, trying to find its voice to bleat its indignation. But then his gaze lighted on Pete’s face, and was instantly transformed to one of care, of compassion and protectiveness. 

 

“Baby, what is it? Are you okay?” He could only nod, and burrow himself into Patrick, into safety. Strong arms wrapped around him, heavy with sleep but endlessly tender as they caressed his spine, rubbed patterns around his shoulder blades. Patrick’s voice was hesitant as he pulled away a tiny bit and looked at Pete, bringing a hand up to lift Pete’s chin until he met his gaze. “Did you…did you have a nightmare?” 

 

Breaking free of the hand, Pete burrowed back into Patrick, nodding shakily. The arms closed around him again, and Patrick was rocking gently, a soothing rhythm that reminded Pete of laying on a hammock, swinging gently on the breeze. His voice was husky with sleep, but more aware than Pete would have imagined Patrick Stump capable to achieve without at least two cups of coffee. “I’m right here. You’re safe, nothing can get you here. It was just a dream, babe, just a dream. I've got you, I’m with you, I’ll always be with you.” He began to rub gentle circles in his scalp and Pete could feel the tension starting to leave his body as the comforting timbre of Patrick’s voice seeped into the cracks in his soul and made him feel like he might just make it…everything might be okay. 

 

Patrick’s hand stilled for a moment before resuming its gentle movements, and guilt washed over him. He shouldn’t have woken Patrick up, stupid, stupid, selfish…

 

“I’m sorry I woke you…” He mumbled against Patrick’s chest, and felt him stiffen. Arms unwound from around him, and Pete wanted to cry and beg for them to come back. But then Patrick was kissing his cheeks, his forehead, his closed eyes where tears were trembling on his lashes. 

 

“Look at me,” His voice was gentle but commanding, with no anger only sincerity. Pete scrounged up some courage to open his eyes and meet Patrick’s gaze.

 

“ _Thank you_ for waking me up. _”_ Patrick pressed a soft kiss to his lips, and it felt like sunsets and sitting by the fire, like a promise kept and _home_. 

 

Pete could only nod, and burrow back into the safety of his best friend’s embrace. Patrick hummed softly a bit of song, that Pete fleetingly realized was from _T_ _he Fox and the Hound_. His brain supplied the words to go with the melody as he felt it vibrating through Patrick’s chest and into him.

 

_When you're the best of friends, having so much fun together._

_You're not even aware, you’re such a funny pair,_

_Cause you're the best of friends…_

 

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt can be found here: http://otp-lifestyle.tumblr.com/post/151199905516/true-story-prompt-person-a-has-irrational-fears
> 
> By way of a disclaimer, none of this is real, it's fiction, it's the ramblings of my lovesick heart, and I don't own anything but my own words.


End file.
